My Beautiful Rescue
by clouisewise
Summary: It's almost painful to sit here and just watch her meditate. Her eyes closed, her lips ever-so-slightly parted, a look of complete relaxation on her face... it's so beautiful that it is painful. My Goddess. My Willow...


**Author's Note**: I would suggest listening to My Beautiful Rescue by This Providence when you read this; that's what it's based off of. :) Takes place after the end of the TV series, before Willow and Kennedy's appearance in the Season 8 comics.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything! I wish I did, but Mr. Joss Whedon has the divine privilege.

It's almost painful to sit here and just watch her meditate. Her eyes closed, her lips ever-so-slightly parted, a look of complete relaxation on her face, her slow breathing... it's so fucking beautiful that it is painful. My Goddess. My Willow.

After we left Sunnydale (or, the crater that used to be Sunnydale) we came to South America, to take a break from the self-proclaimed Scoobies and get a little time for rejuvenation in before we join Buffy, Xander, Dawn and the others in Scotland. Of course, there has been the occasional vampire or demon here and there but overall things have been slow. Well, until recently that is. Last night I was chasing some stupid vamp through the back streets of São Paulo when suddenly is scurried up a ladder and onto the roof of some connected buildings. Stupid me, I thought that I would corner it eventually _and_ get the chance to check out night life below (maybe Willow will want to go dancing later?) – wrong. So wrong. I either underestimated the space between two of the buildings I was jumping or overestimated my new-found slayer strength (or both). Either way, I ended up taking a nasty fall off the roof to the streets below. All I could think of on the seemingly slow way down was the argument Willow and I had before hand; she didn't want me to patrol that night, said she had an 'icky feeling'. But no, bratty Kennedy had to go off and do her little slayer thing. If it wasn't for the fact that Willow can sense whenever I'm in danger, I really could have died.

My Goddess to the rescue.

I have healed quite a bit since then, thanks to my slayer strength and super healing. So I'm sitting cross-legged on the floor across from Willow, my left leg still bandaged and my midsection wrapped, while she does her nightly ritual. We don't talk during her meditation – a lot of the time I'm out patrolling – but the times that I _am_ here I just sit and watch. Marvel, really.

Things with Willow have been intense from the beginning. Both emotionally and physically. She's had things to deal with – with Tara dying, and the fear of letting go that she had – but things are getting better. We talk about her, Tara, on occasion. Sometimes late at night when I get home, if she's still awake, I'll catch her talking to her. At first I thought, "you should be jealous; you should be upset". But I never was, and I never will be - at least not after the night I walked in on her telling Tara about me, about us... Slowly, I'm learning things about Tara from the talks that we have. And I'm glad for it; learning more about Tara means I learn more about Willow. And I love learning about Willow.

The only thing that has been weighing on me recently – other than the sprained ankle and 15 stitches across my midsection that I am currently sporting – is that she can't say it. Those three little words. Those three little very important words... I catch her trying sometimes. She'll get the first letter out but always stops. Every time. And she'll smile and play it off like nothing happened, but I know. I can feel it. I never say it, either, because I'm so afraid of pushing her into saying it without her being ready. I know she does, though. I know she loves me. There are just so many things, you know? So many things I want to say to her – my Goddess, my way, my everything. So many feelings to confess, things I'd like to ask, things I want to know...

But for now, I'll just sit here and silently watch her. I'll smile, and withhold all the things I want to say. Maybe I'll just _show_ it all to her later. Her breath hitches and she slowly opens up her eyes, gorgeous green meeting my chocolate brown and smiles a sleepy (yet still earth-shattering) smile back at me.

Oh yes, definitely later.


End file.
